Maker in the poeting

The story poem of my life...

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        i am through with words let me make something of myself.

        

        i am through with words;

        let me make something of myself.

        i am through –

        with words, let me make something

        of myself.

        i am:

        through/with words

        let me make something of myself.

        i am;

        through with

        words let me make something of myself.

        i am through with

        “words let me make something of myself.”

        i am – through with words –

        let me make 

        something of myself.

        i am

        through with words let me make something of

        myself.

        i am

        through with words let me make

        something

        of myself.

        i am

        through with

        words 

        let me make something of myself.

        i am through with words

        let me …

        make something of myself.

        i am through

        with words let me make something of myself.

        carolyn whitnall, twenty-fifteen.

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Our English word 'poem' can be tracked back to the ancient Greek 'poiema' meaning 'a thing made; workmanship'. It is the word used in Ephesians 2:10 "For we are his [God's] workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."

As something of a wanna-be poet, it delights me to consider that I am myself (granting a certain leniency of etymological touch) a poem, penned by God. Well, it delights me in theory. In practice, it doesn't always suit me. Because I have this intermittent yearning, this determination, to 'make something of myself' – through words, is usually the plan, although they disappoint me on and off to large or less extent. Either way, my stated intent and somewhere-rooted desire to be always malleable to God's perfect creative direction finds itself at constant odds with my own ideas, my gaudy blueprint for success or worth. Now, were I ever tempted to kid myself that this isn't folly ...

“Woe to him who strives with him who formed him,
a pot among earthen pots!
Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’
or ‘Your work has no handles’? (Isaiah 45:9)

Hmm. I'm not one for New Year's resolutions at the best of times (I prefer to catch my resolve unawares) but on some fronts, if anything, I could probably do with a spot of intentional anti-resolutioning: less drive to become, more contentment to yield – to trust God to make of me what He will. As Mary replied to the angel, in words still fresh in the minds of carol-service-goers all over the country, “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

[Thumbnail image cc from Lennixx on Flickr].